


A night of dreams

by melonbutterfly



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-03
Updated: 2011-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:17:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, at night, Seven of Nine seeks out the company of her Captain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A night of dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dayari](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dayari).



It's the knock on the door of her quarters that wakes her up. People don't knock, usually; they press the button that plays a tune in her quarters and at the same time allows them to speak to her via intercom when she grants the request.

Seven of Nine likes to knock. It's not logical, it's not even a habit – because Seven of Nine has no habits except for those that assure her survival, not yet – but it's something she likes to do at night. She hasn't said why, and Kathryn doesn't ask.

And because Seven of Nine knocks, Kathryn leaves her bed to manually open her door – well, as manual as is possible on a starship, that is. But she stands in the doorway when the door parts open, and that's what is most important, she thinks. Seven of Nine thinks that too, though she can't yet say so, but Kathryn sees it in her face.

She also sees other things, even though Seven of Nine doesn't exactly have the most expressive face of her crew. But with Tuvok and other Vulcans – before – Kathryn has gotten used to reading between the lines, behind the actual expression. Most of it is intuition, but she has an excellent intuition. Has to, as a captain.

Seven of Nine looks at her, and Kathryn doesn't return the look; instead, she steps aside, wordlessly invites her into her quarters, and she knows Seven of Nine can read her not-expressions, not-words just as well as she can read Seven's.

It's not Seven's intuition that teaches her to read Kathryn's expression; as part of the Collective, as a Borg, she had no intuition, or if she did, it was suppressed so deeply she's only slowly recovering it now. At least when she's not busy trying to adapt to the free life she's leading, to human behaviour and interaction that is so much more complicated than everything, anything the Borg might have taught her. But she doesn't need to guess with Kathryn; they know each other well, and Seven knows what Kathryn's thinking and feeling.

Her quarters are dark, and Seven's hair gleams in the faint light that falls in from the corridor. The gleam stops when Kathryn allows the door to close again, but it's no matter. If either of them wants it, they can order for light – but Kathryn has no need to, right now; she's a neat person and doesn't have anything lying around on the floor. She finds her bed easily and climbs back in, slips under the warm covers. And she waits.

She hears Seven move in the dark, the noiseless sound as she pulls off her uniform.


End file.
